Three Days
by starz454
Summary: and I'm back.......Jess's past.....eventually R/J and that summary in my last story but this chapter is just Jess. REVIEW and I will love YOU


Rating: PG-13 for swearing and drug use

Spoilers: Season Two

Pairing: R/J

Summary: When the entire Stars Hollow population leaves town to watch the basketball team play in the National finals Rory stays behind, much to Deans despair, to study for finals. Jess also stays behind. Is one weekend enough time for change?

AN: This chapter is mostly about Jess's past, a few thoughts etc. I'll post a Rory chapter later on then the actual story. Please R and R I love reviews, they give me the fuel I need to write. Please Please Please review!!!!

I pick up my sponge and turn the water to hot, kicking the pipe to make the water heat up quicker. Wincing when the boiling water hits my hand I thrust the sponge under the tap glancing around the empty diner. The sponge becomes saturated and I pull it out twisting the tap off. I push the sponge down flattening it on the counter water seeping out of the sponge and along the counter running into a left over coffee cup. With a quick swipe I remove the coffee cup and watch the water flow down the counter in a liner river. With a quick swipe of the sponge I wipe it away and scrub down the rest of the counter. When I finish I toss the sponge in the counter. The Diner is closed, it's later and Luke is already in bed. I pull open the fridge and grab and beer, think and replace it on the shelf taking a coke instead. Plopping down at the counter I realize that this emptiness inside is homesickness. I am homesick. The number on thing that I miss; the noise. The sounds of glass breaking, fighting, screaming, shouting. I miss that. I used to be able to climb up on to the top of my apartment building and find a place where I could talk. Out loud to no one. I'd feel better after letting it go, I'd leave the roof behind and live my life, only visiting it when I needed to. It wasn't a textbook psychological case or anything, believe me I looked it up. Sometimes I'd yell, it didn't matter what I sounded like, people were used to yelling, I lived among crackheads and rapists galore. It was part of the scenery. I wasn't a crack head. I didn't smoke or sniff anything on a regular basis, especially not crack, nasty habit. I knew a lot of people who did that kind of thing, most of them getting into it because one afternoon they decided to satisfy their blossoming curiosity. I didn't for one reason. I vowed that I'd never turn out like my mother.

She started the day I turned seven, the day that my dad left. I didn't know what she was doing, why she'd prick herself and fill the cut with white powder. Sometimes' she'd pass out, sometimes she'd become horrifyingly happy, most of the time I'd lock myself in the bathroom until her rage ended. When I turned thirteen she married a mailman and kicked the habit. The mailman, Dirk was his name, wasn't better for her. 

Dirk was a chain smoker, three packs a day at least. He gave me my first cigarette inducing me into the world of tobacco. He died two years later thankfully, taking all of my mother's spirit with him. I'd leave the apartment often just to get away from her, the raving alcoholic she'd turned herself into. I could usually get some food at Lincoln's house, get some money from the corner store. I wasn't a thief I just took enough to survive. My neighbor, an old black lady named Mrs.Jenkins who kept a shot gun in her closet would cook me dinner once in a while and we'd watch Jeopardy. Her weathered skin would crinkle when I got the answers right, but I was no match when we played Monopoly. She gave me my first book when I turned sixteen.

My mother had come out of her funk and was dating some rich guy that she met in a bar. I didn't like him, he wasn't good for my mom either. Sometimes they'd get drunk and smash around the apartment and he'd hit her once in a while "to keep her straight." I tried stopping him, but he was a lot bigger than I was and I ended up causing myself too much trouble than the whole ideal was worth. He'd usually throw me out and I'd leave, go to Link's or the library. The next morning I'd go back to the apartment and she'd be there with him, laughing and eating breakfast, having fun. He'd slip me a fifty to keep my moth shut, I would. He paid our rent checks and bought my mother and I expensive present. Mostly to shut me up and to keep my mother happy. I'd take the gifts and sell them, mostly to buy books or gamble. I played cards a lot, I was good. Some poker nights, with a five-card draw I could score a thousand bucks without cheating. That's how I got caught. Link and I went to this warehouse run by a bookie named Steve who didn't give a shit your age, if you had money, you were in. The cops came in and started arresting people, (since the warehouse wasn't exactly legal and a lot of stuff went down there.) Link and I slipped out the back. He got away, I'm glad he did, and I would've felt guilty if he got caught. The cops caught me, dragged me back to the station and posted bail and $4,500. Rich boyfriend came through, surprise. Glad to have a reason to get rid of me. She shipped me off the next day, here. To this freak town where everyone knows everyone else and there's only 13 freaking books in the library. At night it's completely silent, I trained myself to sleep with noise so now I sleep with music. I hate not being in control, I hate not knowing… I guess you could say that I hate change. This town is the complete opposite of everything I've ever known. Nighttime is silent, but I need noise, everyone knows me but I need to be anonymous, the streets are so goddamn clean and I need litter. There's only one person worth talking to in this entire town, which is one more person than I've ever had. So why does it all of a sudden look optimistic?


End file.
